


I'm Barely Getting Through Tomorrow

by ninaloveshiddles



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Crying, Crying Castiel, Crying Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Castiel, Grieving Dean, Guilty Castiel, Guilty Dean Winchester, Hunter Burial, Hurt Sam Winchester, I Made Myself Cry, Impala, Memories, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Sam Dies, Scents & Smells, Self-Blame, Self-Hatred, Sobbing, Survivor Guilt, Time Skips, hand holding, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninaloveshiddles/pseuds/ninaloveshiddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader and Sam are a couple. One day, Sam gets hurt really bad on a hunt, and Castiel doesn’t get there in time to heal him. The unimaginable happens and Sam Winchester dies, leaving the remaining three to try and cope. They struggle through feelings of despair and the inevitable self-blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Barely Getting Through Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [somanydestiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanydestiel/gifts).



> I hope this is kind of what you were going for? Hope you enjoy!

You sit in the back seat of the Impala, chewing your lip nervously. Something is not right; you feel edgy and anxious. You try to clear your head, why should you be nervous? This is a routine hunt and the Winchesters are the best hunters in the world. Still, something feels off, and the pit of your stomach can’t stop turning. Sam looks back at you from the passenger’s seat and gives a dazzling, dimpled smile.

“You’re awfully quiet” he teases, grabbing your hand and stroking it with his thumb. You smile weakly at him and he gives you a suspicious look. “What’s wrong?” he questions.

“What makes you think something is wrong?” you lamely respond. Your boyfriend knows you too well.

“We are hunting a witch. I know for a fact that those are your favorite hunts, but you seem distant.”

You give a sigh, “I don’t feel good about this Sam” you confess. He tilts his head, regarding you with curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“I just- something feels wrong. Like the calm before a tempest, you know?”

Sam strokes your cheek, “Come on. We are all competent hunters, and this is a routine case. It’ll be fine. Nothing bad is gonna happen, I promise.”

“Okay” you say with a small smile. Sam had a way of putting you at ease; of making all your troubles disappear with a word or a touch. You ride in silence for a few minutes till Dean breaks it.

“You know what guys, this is an open and shut case. How about the two of you take it?” Dean prompts as he pulls up to the neighborhood.

“What?” you question incredulously.

“Yeah man, what’s up?” Sam adds.

“Just not feelin’ it today guys. I don’t know. I’ll drop you off and get a burger or something.”

You shrug your shoulders; you used to hunt alone, so hunting with just Sam is no problem at all. And it really is an easy case. A lone witch, you know the house, you interviewed her already.

“Sure Dean, sounds fine to me” you mumble. He pulls up to the woman’s house, and you and Sam exit the car.

“I’ll literally be five minutes” Dean states, “just enough time to get some food to go.” He pulls away and you and the taller Winchester walk up to the front door.

“So what’s the game plan?” you question.

“We go in there, tell her we have some more questions, then attack. It’s two against one.”

You finger at your blade through your pants, making sure that you can grab it quickly. Sam knocks at the door and the blonde middle-aged woman answers, giving a too-wide smile.

“Oh, hello again officers” she says sweetly.

“Good afternoon ma’am, we just have a few last minute questions for you, may we come in?” you ask.

She nods her head and leads the two if you into the house, closing the front door behind her.

“Now” Sam whispers to you, you nod slightly, and turn, wielding your knife. The witch however dodges your blade and gives you a punch to the jaw. Sam lunges at her, his eyes filled with rage and his teeth clenched. He pushes her up against the wall and you quickly hold the knife across her throat.

“Any last words, bitch?” you ask, wiggling you jaw where she punched you, feeling the bruise develop.

“Drop dead hunter” she spits, before releasing a truly devious cackle. You narrow your eyes and press the blade in further. Just as you slit her throat, you hear a cry of pain. But it’s not from her and your stomach immediately drops into your toes. You snap your head around to see a younger female behind Sam, a second witch; and to your horror, a metal blade sticking out of his chest.

The older witch drops dead to the floor and you give a blood curdling scream as you attack the other, pushing her away from Sam. She falls to the floor with you on top of her. You straddle her waist and everything feels unreal. Her skin under your nails; the way the bones of her neck feel as they snap under your hands; the way the light fades from her eyes. The rage in your heart rushes to your ears, blocking out any sound. Time seems to stand still, frozen in this one moment of pure aggression and anger. Your whole body trembles and you look at her cold corpse for what seems like eternity; till you hear a weak gasp.

Suddenly the blood rushes from your ears, and time seems to move forward. “Sam!” you shout, turning around. He leans against the wall, trying to support himself. The long blade is clearly visible, the hilt all the way in his back, and the bloody tip peeking out from his chest.

You grab him by the torso, and his immense weight nearly forces you to the ground. “Can you stand baby?” you say panicked, beginning to hyperventilate. He just groans in pain, and his knees buckle as the two of you slowly collapse to the ground. You hold his upper body in your arms, making sure not to jostle the blade anymore.

“Call, Castiel” he barely breathes. You see his eyes start to roll back, and tears begin to build.

“Castiel!” You scream at the top of your lungs. You don’t care if the neighbors hear, if the cops come. You just need Sam to be saved. “Castiel, we need you! Angel of the Lord Castiel hear my prayer” you cry out in between sobs. The noises you make are shrill and haunting, nearly all of them blood curdling screams. Sam begins to shake in your arms, his breaths wheezy and labored.

“Don’t you do this to me Winchester” you snap, hot tears scorching down your cheeks. You stroke his hair and Sam gives you a quivering smile.

“Wouldn’t….dream of…it…baby” he whispers. His face becomes pale and his radiant hazel eyes begin to dull.

“Castiel!” you scream at the top of your lungs, punishing your vocal chords.

“(Y/N)?” he gasps, his head and body becoming heavier.

“Yeah Sam?” you respond, your voice catching in your throat.

“Take care…of Dean…

 “Fuck you Sam, don’t talk like that” you say half-heartedly in a hoarse voice, cupping his face.

“Love…you..best thing that..ever happened…to me”

“You too” you whisper, your vision getting blurry from your tears.

“So beautiful” he says almost inaudibly, his eyes closing.

“Wait, what? Sam! Sam!” you scream, but he doesn’t respond. You feel his full weight collapse against your body, and you squeeze him tightly. This isn’t happening, this can’t happen. You aren’t ready. Your hand strokes his hair absently, your entire body trembling with your sobs.

“Cas” you try weakly. Sam’s body begins to stiffen, and his skin grows cold, his usually comforting warmth gone. Forever. And you realize it is nothing but a memory. _No!!!!_ Your mind screams at you. _There’s’ still a chance, right?_ You lie to yourself, allowing false hope for as long as you can.

The door suddenly busts open and your heart leaps in your throat from the shock. Dean appears and he stops dead in his tracks, and gives the most forlorn look you have ever seen.

“What the hell?” he demands, his green eyes blazing with something that frightens you to your core. “Sammy!” he screams, his voice intense and haggard. He slaps Sam’s face, shaking his shoulders. “Oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god!” You see the tears build up in his eyes, his lips quivering; and suddenly Dean is four years old. You can practically see inside his mind, flashbacks of his father saying one thing: _watch over Sammy._ “I’m sorry” he says in between shallow breaths, his eyes widening in horror. He looks at you, almost as if you are a foreign creature he’s never seen before. “Oh my god I’m so sorry” he whispers, his eyes locking with yours. All you can see in them is pain and regret; a self-loathing that should be unachievable.

You can’t speak, and you feel vomit rise in your throat, and you are barely able to keep it down. You want to be alone, you want to hug Dean, you want to punch a wall. But all you can do is hang your head down and cry, your sobs creating a solemn melody, joined by the harmony of Dean’s own cries; haunting and terrible as your world completely turns black, your heart crumbling to ash.

 

That night you, Dean, and Castiel give Sam a proper send off. You shiver in the chill night air as you watch his beautiful body burn, the flames leaping and dancing. It almost looks joyful, and for a brief moment you resent them; you resent the liveliness of the movements, the sharp crackling of the wood, the bright beauty of it all. It just seems unfitting; insensitive and unconcerned with your desolation.

You can’t even look at the two other men, unable to deal with what you know is in their eyes. The same thing that is in your eyes. Guilt. A plethora of guilt, self-loathing, doubt, denial; but most of all self-blame. The tears flow again as you think back to Castiel’s appearance in the witch’s house. The disbelief in those blue eyes. The way his chapped lips moved without any sound, searching for words that wouldn’t come. Because nothing could convey what the angel felt. The sharp sound of his knees hitting the hard wood. The tentative touching of Sam’s cold skin. And the realization in his eyes that there was nothing to be done.

You breathe deeply, trying not to let out a squeak as the tears fall yet again. How long had it been since you took a breath? Since you moved? It didn’t matter; it was all fucking meaningless. You stand in numb silence as you watch the fires die, the embers glowing weakly as they try to sustain themselves before eventually suffering the same fate of the man within them. They die and turn cold.

All of you shift slightly, unsuccessfully conveying a calm appearance when each one of you is spiraling into complete desolation and despair. You are too scared to speak, too scared to move for fear that once you stop looking at the now cold funeral pyre, reality will strike, and you will have to live your life. Live with the knowledge that each one of you has failed. As a brother. As a guardian angel. As a fellow hunter and girlfriend.

Castiel is the first one to move, and he says nothing; just walks to the Impala. Dean and you turn in unison, resigning yourselves to the fact that this is real; this horrible, twisted, deplorable event is indeed part of your immediate and eternal reality.

**3 days later**

You haven’t left the bunker, none of you have. Not even Castiel. You can’t leave your room. If you run into either of them you know you’ll lose it. You can’t see Dean’s self-hate, Castiel’s pure guilt. You don’t want them to see just how much you blame yourself; how it’s all your fault. The most beautiful man to ever grace your life is gone, dead, brutally murdered; all because of you. An unworthy, meaningless, mess of a human being who has no right to live while he cannot.

Sleeping is the worst part. You wake up whispering Sam’s name like a prayer. You go to sleep seeing his face. And then you have the dream. It’s simple really. The two of you walking hand in hand, and you swear you can feel his callouses. The way his body leans slightly against yours, the comforting weight of his touch. And then the skies turn grey; your hand feels heavy with the weight of something; a blade. Suddenly your arm is up, piercing the blade into his chest. And the worst part is Sam’s face, his eyes filled with betrayal before turning dark. He falls to the ground and you are left standing, unable to move, unable to help. You can only watch, can only stare at a corpse.

Then you usually wake up in a cold sweat, tears springing from your eyes, and bile rising up in your throat. As you try to fall back to sleep, your mind always races, filled with thoughts and memories of your hunter. His amazing dimples. _You’ll never see them again. Never know that smile again._ The way his shoulders hunch when he’s researching. _You’d give anything to have the light from his laptop keep you up at night._ His playful banter between him and his brother. _Will Dean’s smile ever reach his eyes again? Causing the bright green to shine as his skin crinkles?_ His warm lips on yours, how they always fit perfectly. The intimacy when the two of you made love. The way you trusted each other with complete vulnerability. The way you loved with reckless abandon. _That feeling is gone for good._

This morning, hunger wins over; you can’t ignore the growls of your stomach forever. The idea of food makes you queasy, but starving yourself won’t help anything. You slowly walk out of the room, hugging yourself as your legs shake slightly. You’re weak from lack of movement and sustenance. You walk across the cold floor, making your way to the kitchen. On the way you see various rooms thrown into disarray; lamps broken, books scattered. You bite your lip, knowing that this is Dean’s work. It nearly pushes you over the edge, but you hold it back, not having the energy to cry again. When you reach the kitchen you quickly make a sandwich and put on some tea. You try to take a bite of the sandwich, and the taste is bland and disappointing. You continue to nibble as you wait for the water to heat up. You hear footsteps behind you and you tentatively turn your head to see Dean walk in, followed shortly by Cas.

You can’t even greet them, knowing that you’ll let out a sob if you dare open your mouth. Dean sits down at the table remaining silent as Castiel awkwardly stands against a counter. You feel your chest constrict as you struggle to remain stoic, contradictory to your inner turmoil. You’re so consumed with your thoughts that you don’t notice your hand drifting towards the pot. Closer and closer to the heat till it burns you, searing your fingers. You let out a cry, and that’s all it takes. The emotions flow, the dam breaking as everything comes rushing out. You fall to the ground unable to keep it in and you scream at the other two, “It’s my fault! I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Castiel responds, a scowl on his face. Dean rushes to your side, his eyes serious and dark.

“Don’t you fucking say that” Dean threatens, sinking to the floor with you. “It’s my fault. I let you guys go alone. I should have been there. But I was lazy and careless. I should have been there with him. I would have ganked the bitch. I should have known there was a second one.” All the pent up thoughts finally flow from Dean’s pink lips, and you see his eyes flit from you to Castiel in a panicked pattern.

“How can you say that?” Castiel asks, his voice husky. He joins you both on the floor, bowing his head as if asking for forgiveness. “You called and called me. And I was busy. I have the power, I could have saved Sam. And I didn’t. I am an awful, despicable, deplorable friend, and a sorry excuse for an angel. I heard you and I didn’t respond.” Tears well up in his eyes, and he licks his chapped lips. “I thought it could wait till later” he adds quietly, refusing to make eye contact with either of you.

You can’t believe your ears. How could they not see that you were to blame? You stroke Castiel’s cheek. “It’s not your fault Cas. I was the one who was there the whole time. I should have been more watchful. I should have killed the first witch sooner. I should have done more to help Sam. Maybe if I was a better hunter, maybe if it had been me who had gotten stabbed.” You cry loudly, knowing it should have been you.

“This is fucked up” Dean mutters.

“Will we ever get over this?” you ask wiping away your tears with your sleeve.

“Can you forgive me?” Castiel begs.

You look deep into his eyes, and you suddenly realize, “The real question…is can we forgive ourselves?”

All three of you fall into contemplative silence, knowing that you can easily forgive the other two; but yourself? That would take a lot of work, a lot of time, and a lot of healing.

“I think we can help each other” Dean says, his breath hitching. “Because I need help.”

“Me too” Cas says quietly. You nod your head, biting your lip till it bleeds.

 

That night, you crawl into bed with Dean. He doesn’t say anything, but makes room for you. His arms capture you protectively, and you grip his t-shit. There is nothing sexual about it. It’s all about needing contact with someone who feels the same sadness you do. Your nose wrinkles; he smells different than Sam. You shift your head slightly so you can smell the shirt you’re wearing. Sam’s shirt; still full of his scent. You say nothing, and make no judgement when you hear Dean inhale, recognizing his brother. You hear the distinct flapping of wings, and you don’t bother to look up. You feel the weight of Castiel on the other side of you, as he sits on the bed. He watches over you and Dean, silently regarding you both. You reach your hand over to him, gripping his tightly. He doesn’t flinch, and even strokes your hand with his thumb.

The three of you wait in the darkness, hoping sleep will capture you. But it doesn’t. An hour passes in complete silence without anyone sleeping, or Castiel drifting off into a mediation. You don’t know why you say it, why you felt the need to break the still silence. But you whisper what you’ve needed to say for the past three days. “I miss him. So much”

Dean shifts slightly, and you hear Castiel clear his throat. “I miss him too (y/n). More than I could have ever imagined.”

“I miss Sam as well” Castiel adds quietly, gripping your hand a little tighter.

“I love you guys” you whisper, a tear falling down your cheek. “And I know Sam did too.”

You hear Dean choke back on a small sob, and Cas even lets out an almost inaudible cry. “I never told Sam enough how much I loved him” Dean mutters, his voice raspy.

“He knew Dean. Sam Winchester always knew the love we had for him, even though we never conveyed it enough” Castiel responds.

“How can I do this without him?” you ask more to yourself than anybody.

“Not easily. But you always have us. Never forget that” Dean answers. You nod your head slightly. The silence returns, and you can tell that both boys are suddenly more relaxed. Castiel keeps his hand in yours, allowing the other one to rest on Dean’s shoulder.

You wake up the next morning, still surrounded by Dean and Castiel. And no nightmares.

**1 Week Later**

Castiel knocks over an entire bookcase. You don’t know why, but you do an imitation of Sam telling Castiel to respect the books. And you laugh. Dean can’t help but laugh until he is in tears. It is the first time all three of you smile. There is crying afterwards, but at least there is a moment, however short, where a beam of light injects into your black world.

**3 Weeks Later**

The three of you are able to sleep in different rooms again. But every once in a while you will all gather in the living room. You talk about memories of Sam, of your favorite hunts. You all fall asleep on the couches, content that you won’t be waking up alone.

**A Month Later**

Dean and you switch cars. You can’t believe your ears when he says he wants to trade Baby. But you don’t push the issue. He simply states that there are too many memories in the car, but he also can’t see her go to someone he doesn’t trust.

**2 Months Later**

You are hunting regularly again. Castiel visits more often than he ever has, and you and Dean have become a great fighting duo. You finally experience your first day where you don’t cry.

**A Year Later**

You stand in front of Sam’s memorial, laying his favorite book next to it. You take a deep breath, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with him, like you always used to be. You close your eyes and speak, letting your tears come out, knowing it’s okay to show them.

“Hey baby. I don’t know if you’re watching over me, but I like to think that you are. I can’t believe it’s been a year, but not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. About kissing your cute little dimples. Stroking your hair. About how gassy you get when you eat Mexican food. I’m getting along okay, but I wish you were still here.

I know what you’re thinking. Why haven’t I moved on? The truth is Sam, you were the love of my life. You are still the love of my life. And you will always be the love of my life. I don’t know where I’m going when I die, but where ever I end up, I will continue to love you. I’m okay with being alone, because I had you. And let me tell you something; that was enough. I am so lucky that I got to experience something so beautiful as your kind heart and warm touch.

I promise to look after your brother till the end of my days. I will keep him and Castiel in line till my last breath. But most importantly, I will lead a happy life. It won’t be easy. It would be easier to give up, to let it all end. But I won’t do that. I will live my life for you Sam; that’s how much you mean to me baby. I love you, Winchester. And I’ll be forever yours, with every fiber of my being.”

You hug yourself tightly, trying to calm down your cries. As you turn to leave, you feel the breeze caress your cheek, and the sun beat down on your back, almost like a hand resting on your shoulder. And you swear you can hear a faint whisper. A promise that will keep you going, a promise that brings a sad, but hopeful smile to your lips. And the whisper says:

_Forever and always, my love. Until we meet again._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If any of my readers out there are artists, I have a request. Please just lemme know :)


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